A Caged Hinderence
by bexr91
Summary: He took a step closer still, Sansa tensed but kept her eyes locked with his. His hand went to her hair once again, his other hand went to her arm and slowly, he dragged her red hair through his thumb and forefinger, down the strands, just as the hand at her arm drifted he length of her arm to her wrist."Your hair." He gruffly stated, "Like fire.."
1. No Satisfaction

**No Satisfaction**

She could sense a rising angst in his disposition, a rage in his eyes she has seen before in it's depth floods his gaze. His intimidating pose looms closer as he turns, facing her directly with his discontent.

"No, it gives me joy to kill people." He replies, baring his teeth. she surprises herself with her own diluted anger, hackles rising.

"You lie." She states, her tone steady in the face of an increasingly furious Hound. He charges towards her then, his hand going to his sword. She gasps, feeling the stone pillar at her back , the cold stone snapping her out of her confidence, all at once she realises her words. The dog manages to control his anger, his bared nostrils giving away the effort, his eyes soften for a mere moment. Still Sansa holds onto her anger at his ungallant reaction to her thankfulness. It becomes increasingly clear that The Hound operates in action and displays an unorthodox lack of importance to words.

"Killing is the sweetest thing there is." He continues, eyes drifting carefully over her face.

" Then you know very little of life." She responds bravely, a genuine surprise coats his gaze as he tilts his head to the slide as he regards her. He was so very difficult to read and understand. The sudden movement of his hand reaching for her makes her flinch and turn away in fear, her figure reeks of it.

" Look at me." He bellows, his hand grasping her jaw, twisting it with a hesitance that surprises her. Looking into his eyes, she doesn't feel danger radiating from them, they flick between each of hers.

"You think my hideous face hinders me? You believe my anger leaves me empty? I have travelled the whole of Westeros, girl. Your beloved King pays me coin enough for wine and whores. I'm satisfied with my lot, girl." His spite seems to burn across her face and she feels a frightening need to flee the barrage of his hate. His hand engulfs her throat and jaw, she felt the power in them, the possibilites of harm and death seep through his very fingertips. Sansa briefly considers that she may have insulted him.

"I'm sorry, My Lord, I should not speak out of turn on a matter I do not understand." At this moment, she expects him to release her. She rests her hands on his at her throat and wrist. Suddenly overwhelmed, burning tears fall from her eyes, leaving his twisted and damaged face a mere blur, Sansa could feel panic in her throat.

"Keep your chirping for the King, Little Bird. Your honesty has no consequences. I give you my word." He responds gruffly, keeping his voice low. Sansa and The Hound watched each-other for a moment as she regained her composure, taking deep breaths before speaking.

"Satisfied is not the same thing. You may bark and growl to whom you will, some day, satisfied may not be enough. You are more than that. I know it." She speaks quietly.

"Silly girl, with her fantasies and Knights." He barked, glancing her full length, she could hear the leather of his gloves squeal as he clenched his fist.

"You should be grateful if you ever were satisfied, Little Bird; you have a _Lord's_ blood, you live in comfort and luxury in the cage you resent. Alone in the world you have seen nothing of." She looks up at him, his face is high as his eyes look down at her. Sansa can feel a wretched sadness creep into her throat and burn her eyes. 'A dog doesn't lie' they said.

"Why are you always so hateful?" She replies, anger and sadness creeping into her voice. He lets go of her jaw then, slowly as if not to cause her pain. His armour screeches in her ear as he moves.

"You will be grateful of the hateful things I do some day. When I am all that stands between you and your _beloved_ King." The fury drips in his every word, eyes blazed with a fire that disfigured his face long ago.

"You no little of Love and happiness. Ser."

"I am no Sir." He growls. Taking a dangerous step toward her.

"You no little of Love and happiness, Little Bird." His response was surprising, Sansa drew her eyes away, pausing for a moment before walking back toward her chamber. Feeling his dark eyes at her back.


	2. Not So Thankful

**Not So Thankful**

Sandor didn't know if he hated or embraced his sparsely filled days. Baratheon was always doing various visits and activities that required him. The little blonde fuck of a son of his barely left the keep. Sandor's role seemed ceremonial as the boy King sat his arse on the iron throne calling for blood and cruelty in court. Sandor found that he, too, was being punished for closest view of the Little Bird's beatings. Day by day, her valiant Knights smashed her fantasies and hurt her to the realisation of reality and lost dreams. Sandor mocked her for it, the poison dripping off his tongue before he could stop it, both aware that to her, his tongue was cruel and only affirmed her greatest fears and nightmares. She kept away from men, only satisfied with female company or her own. Day by day, her eyes dimmed.

Deep into his cups, Sandor listened as his armour crunched together as he marched through the cold stone corridors of the keep, watching as the flames of the torches flickered and licked the air, reaching out to him as if to finish what his brother had started. He knew no-one would disturb him at this time, just as he knew, just where she would be.

He could hear his Little Bird's sniffling and ungraceful footsteps as she descended the tower to where she would pray. She was a devastated beauty.

"Look who's come out to play..The King wouldn't want his prize wondering alone." He spoke, his voice low and gruff with wine. She looked startled, trapped, her eyes flickered in confusion and anxiety.

"I'm going back to my chambers, Ser." She replied in a false and trembling confidence.

"Do you fear me girl?" He asked, growling. Her eyes continued to seek escape from him, he was struck by her uncertainty, a bad reaction to a strong man with little patience when drinking. He grasped her upper arms, bringing her closer to his chest than the stone behind her.

"Your hurting me, Please, Ser!" She cried into his face, grasping at his own arms for release.

"Not so thankful now, Little Bird? Tell me, do you think me a rat?" He shook her then, her eyes were wide and fixed on his own.

"Do you think I would take you as those men did? Make you bleed, girl?" He growled.

"No, I'm sorry, Ser! Pardon me for not answering." She replied, breathless with fear. He placed her down then, watching his own hands release their pressure on he soft fabric of her dress, his thumbs rubbed the area he had assaulted. His mind swam and he became suddenly dizzy, swaying, he leaned his head atop of her own, shutting his eyes and waiting for the dizziness to subside. He could feel the Little Bird's soft breaths on his neck.

"I'm a dog remember?" He spoke into her hair.

"The King's dog." He continued, gruff voice quiet as he leaned away from her.

"And you're his Bird." Their gazes were locked together.

"Would you sing me a song Little Bird? A song of fair maidens and Knights?" He mocked, her eyes became hard again, the uncertainty from before had gone.

"Like your brother?" She replied, somewhat startled by what she said. His eyes snapped , his brow felt low and angry. His fists clenched together, a feeling of danger and the need to kill pumped through his veins.

"My brother?" He growled, his voice so low it felt like another's, even to him. Suddenly her eyes widened, her head shook her refusal.

"No, Im sorry, I didn't mean-" She said softly.

"Mean what, girl? Tell me...NOW!" He demanded grasping the sides of her head and snarling in her face. She shut her eyes and her small hands began to pull at his wrists. What did the girl know of Gregor? Who had told her? She had looked at him in fear but the disgust that is evident in her face because of his own twisted one? Is that why she can't look at him, why she despises him? A swell of self loathing clouded his drunken mind, clashing together in an internal war and he resented her for it, in that moment.

"I can't." She whispered, eyes still stubbornly closed. Returning his attention back to the girl in-front of him, the sight of her pain quelled his own.

"You will hurt me.." She continued, tears seeping from her closed lids. He watched her for a moment, his blood curdling need to kill subsided, his rage, he realised was obvious, his breathing echoed the corridor loudly, even to his own ears.

"No, Little Bird, I wont hurt you." She opened her eyes then, she was a pathetic little thing, all fear and tears. She watched him for a moment, her once tense shoulders returned to their usual elegant slope. He removed his hands from her and looked around, suddenly aware of the corridor.

Grasping her elbow, he pulled her along with him as he hastened toward her bedchamber.

"Ser!" She chirped behind him.

"I'm no Ser, girl!" He barked, his strength no match for her own. Even after an indulged visit to the tavern.


	3. Flickering Flame

**Flickering Flame**

The last time Sansa had hurried through the corridors of the Red Keep, it named the end to her old life and the fragmentation of her family. Terrorised by the cruelties of reality, she was certain, destroyed the strength of her brothers and sister, her father and mother. How she missed them. Sansa had forgotten what it was to love and to be loved but exceptionally, safety was now a long lost dream. As The Hound tore her through the fire lit corridors, the clashing of armour and fabric together, they reached her chamber. The action spoke of a hideous mirroring of that fateful day, she had faced ugliness she never thought existed but as The Hound brought her through the doorway and lit carefully the lantern by her bedside, she realised as she gazed upon his face, shadowed by darkness and haunted by the flame past and present, that he was the most beautiful she had come across in her life at King's Landing.

The Hound's brow was always furrowed, yet even with half his face melted away, she could see softness as he glanced down at her. Sansa's gaze flickered around her room, a room of luxury ,as the Hound had bluntly announced, and it did indeed meant nothing to her.

"Why are you so angry, My Lord?" She hesitated, afraid of breaking the silence and incurring his wrath. He didn't give any indication of answering, the dark depth of his eyes swallowed whatever words she would have continued with. He took a step closer, as delicately as he could and Sansa tried her best not to shrink away. He reached out then, his gloved hand hovering above her hair a the side of her face. He seemed conflicted about something, his eyes betraying a secret and hidden story and Sansa realised the Hound was lost in a memory long past.

"I don't understand?" She offered quietly. He turned away then, his broad and powerful back blocking any light from the window.

"You know of my plight with fire, girl. Of Gregor?" He asked. She felt afraid once more, but for the first time in her life, she felt afraid of her fear and it's consequence on someone else.

"Yes... Lord Baelish told me of the tale of the Mountain and the Hound."

He took a step closer still, unconsciously bracing for the unknown, Sansa tensed but kept her eyes locked with his. His hand went to her hair once again, his other hand went to her arm and slowly, he dragged her red hair through his thumb and forefinger, down the strands, just as the hand at her arm drifted he length of her arm to her wrist.

"Your hair." He gruffly stated, his voice deep loud in the room as it rumbled across the cold stone walls.

"Like fire." He continued, looking back at her face. She was confused by the intensity of his gaze and the comment.

"He said no Knight in the whole of the king's guard would protect me, if you were ever to know that I knew of the origins of your face." She shifted uncomfortably, her voice wavering, her eyes and throat burned with emotion and un-shed tears.

"Do not ever offer me pity, Little Bird, if you knew what I had done, who I have killed, you would not be so trusting of me. Never forget who I am, girl. I am a dog and you are the King's Bird."

"You are no dog to me." She said confidently, raising her chin slightly.

"What is your name?" She asked, curiously. His scarred face twitched, jaw clenching.

"Clegane. Sandor Clegane." Sansa felt a smile break, the muscles in her face aching at the strange motion. She thought she could see the corner of his mouth turn upwards, but in a moment it was gone, the shadows were flickering illusions.

"Sandor.." She tested, his name unusual on her lips. His head tilted to the side slightly, his hair falling in-front of his face. She watched him for a moment longer, before reaching up and moving the thick cluster of hair from his eyes. He grasped her wrist as her fingertips brushed the twisted side of his face, her wrist tiny in his hand, unintentionally crushing it in a bruising grip. She gasped at the speed and the pain. He instantly let go and hastened from the room.


End file.
